What Alchemy Looks Like Now

There’s something about Vermont that invites stillness. Maybe it’s the hush between seasons, or the way the light hits a maple tree in late afternoon. You can be stacking firewood or boiling pasta, and suddenly a thought arrives: what would it take to live a little closer to yourself?

In quieter corners of history, alchemy wasn’t just about gold—it was about change. Deep change. A kind of patient refining, where the mess of ordinary life could be distilled into something clear and strong. That idea still matters. Not in the grand gestures, but in the daily choices you make without anyone watching.

It All Starts in the Mind

Some say the world begins in thought. That the way you speak to yourself becomes the tone of your life. If that’s true, then paying attention to your inner dialogue is a kind of magic in itself. Are you generous with yourself? Do you hold your own gaze, or look away? Changing your life might start with nothing more dramatic than noticing your patterns and asking if they still serve you.

Nature Knows the Rhythm

You don’t need a guru when you’ve got a backyard. Planting something, tending it, watching it die back and come again—it’s a cycle that mirrors our own. People in these parts still boil down herbs for salves and teas. It’s not trendy here; it’s just part of life. You take what’s useful, discard the rest, and trust the process. A jar on a windowsill can teach you more than a hundred self-help books.

The Other Self

We all carry a version of ourselves we’ve barely met. It shows up in crisis or clarity—when we finally say the hard thing, or take the leap, or let something go without turning back. Some call it instinct. Others call it grace. But you know it when it arrives: a steadier voice, a kind of knowing. It lives beneath the habits and distractions. You don’t have to earn it, only make space for it.

Dreams as Compass

It’s easy to dismiss dreams in a world that moves so fast. But here, where the pace slows a little and the stars still show up, it feels natural to wonder what your dreams are trying to tell you. Maybe they’re just noise. Or maybe they’re a map—drawn in a language you’re learning to remember. Even writing them down can be a form of clarity. A whispered way of asking, "Who am I really?"

The Role of Will

Wanting change isn’t enough. You have to choose it, over and over—on the days you feel like it and especially on the days you don’t. That’s where the will comes in. Not force, but direction. A quiet push toward better habits, better boundaries, a better sense of what’s yours to carry. The belief that you can become someone steadier, truer—that’s what sets the process in motion.

Small Fires, Real Change

You don’t have to reinvent your life overnight. Just watch it closely. Stir the pot. Walk the long way. Let go of what no longer fits. Build your days like a woodstove fire—deliberate, steady, just enough to warm what matters. That’s the real gold: a life where you’re paying attention, refining as you go.